Lucid Reseda
by KenaBeliever
Summary: Sometimes, it just hurts." Adelaide Lynn, thief, ragamuffin, homeless, is attacked and scarred from head to toe. Where did that man go, and what were his intentions? Full summary inside! EdXOC DISCONTINUED. UP FOR ADOPTION.
1. Ch 1 New Day

**My very first (public) fanfiction. I would sincerely appreciate criticism. All of it will help me to become a better writer, so don't hold back! Tell me what you think!  
Summary: Adelaide Lynn, thief, ragamuffin, homeless, is cornered by a man in the forbidden Old District. The looks he gives her aren't nice, and neither is he. Waking up in a hospital, Adelaide learns that she is scarred for life. Really, _scarred._ Marks cover her from head to toe. Where did that man go, and what were his intentions in carving her up with these strange designs?**

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_Chapter One: **New Day**_

_She walked, getting lost inside her own head for a moment. She tripped, and heard footsteps coming up behind her. She pushed herself up on elbows. "How did you trip?" they asked, helping the girl up. "I forgot how to use my legs," the child replied in wonder, looking up with the sun in her eyes._

I had to pick myself up again. Damn it, I'd forgotten how hard guys could hit. "Yeah, you better walk away!" I said defiantly to his back, wiping the blood from the side of my mouth. My face probably didn't look too pretty right now, but what the heck, it never looked all that pretty in the first place. There was, I was certain, bruising on my neck from where he'd tried pinning me down before. I didn't even know why I was fighting him, really. He just reeked of pent-up angst, and the look he'd given me had made my skin crawl. And yet, I simply _had_ to ask him, "What the heck you lookin' at, prissy-pants?" That was pretty much how it got started.

"Go on you little shi-" but I didn't get to finish that sentence, as he spun and came at me. He was like a charging bull, and I felt that this imagery was oddly hilarious, though it might've been because of how many hits to the head I'd taken. I laughed somewhat hysterically before my ankle let out as he hit me with a surprise uppercut that connected with my chin. _Fu-!_ I didn't even get to finish that thought before his smirking face was all I could see, his foot planted in my chest. I swore something _cracked_ there as he leaned his weight onto my ribcage. I spluttered, and found I couldn't breath, my lungs choking on the little air I could pull in. I couldn't scream.

My heart was shuddering, my hands shaking, though I could not lift them for the pain. And he pulled out his knife, and rested it against the hollow of my throat before he pulled my head upwards sharply by my hair. Something pulled against whatever had cracked, and I let out a strangled noise before his blade sunk into my skin. His eyes spelled out the word he felt was perfect for how I looked now as he drew the blade, stinging, against the hollow of my neck. He thought that it was beautiful, the way in which my skin parted for the lines he drew; bile bubbled in my throat as I witnessed this defacement of my body. He continued the lines almost everywhere, not stopping to spare the only clothes I possessed. The pain was excruciating. Oh god, did it hurt, this bastard carving me with intricate lines, tracing patterns of my pain so as to spell them out in my own skin.

There came the time, in that dark alley, when I felt my vision blurring, and a high pitched sound came to run continuously through my ears. I imagined footsteps, imagined that there was someone who had happened to disobey the military ordinance that no one trespass upon the Old District. But I knew, even as I faded, willing myself to find some escape from the pain, that only vagabonds and drifters would pass through here.

There was a small _clacking_ sound that I could eventually hear when my sense of sight failed me, and my body was too numb from blocking out the pain. I hurt so much, yet I was sure somehow that the knife had finally been removed from my skin. The sound reminded me of my childhood, the teacher writing on the board, the sound of chalk being put to the plate. I passed into my memory, and watched from an angle absurdly close to my teacher's hand as she drew a single straight line ever so slowly downward. The chalk cracked, and made a _clinking_ noise as it connected with the stone floor. Everything went black, and my world was only the sound of my gasping, the ringing sound, and the heavy breathing of my attacker.

Before I completely faded from reality, before I descended into dark depths, I heard him speak a word, "Finished." Then, I was so sure, there actually _were_ footsteps. It was undeniably a product of wishful thinking. The last thing I knew was the copper taste of blood in my mouth.

I felt so stiff, and I could barely move. My lids felt too heavy to lift, even though I was dying _(ha)_ to see where I was. If I wasn't dead, and I was sure I wouldn't be allowed into heaven, I wanted to know where I was. For a moment, I wondered if I was still in that alley in the Old District, but whatever I was lying on was too soft to be broken cobble, though I wasn't certain if it was a bed either.

I tried to breathe deeply, and my breath caught in a strange way as my expanding lungs pressed against my probably broken rib. But what was this? It felt like someone had applied a bandage to keep my rib in a relatively stiff position. And now that I considered it, when I moved my fingers, I felt there were bandages even there.

Was I…? But who could've brought me here? No, there was no way I was in a hospital, was there? My sense of smell was of no use, naturally. My sinuses had probably swollen pretty badly. It may have been because of a broken nose, and I wouldn't be surprised, or maybe the bile I'd choked on had inflamed them.

I moaned as I tried to move my hand. I was itching and stinging all over. Still, I knew that there were worse things that could've happened in that alley than being carved up all over my body. Well, I might have a change of opinion once I got a good look at myself. It was then that someone poked their head into my room. I couldn't move my head to see them except out of the corner of my eye since he hadn't bothered to spare my face, the same as my clothes. "Hello?" I asked, my voice faint and raw. I heard a shuddering, relieved sigh. The person walked into my room.

"Hello, miss, my name is Kerril, and I'll be your attending nurse," she paused, her eyes betraying some pity. It hardened my heart for a minute, until I remembered that I wasn't just some kid on the street anymore. Now I was a highly scarred kid, who'd ended up in the hospital… Which reminded me.

"How did I," I had to try and clear my throat, though _that_ only hurt it more. I grimaced and started again. "How did I get here?"

She looked like she was going to bite her lip off with uncertainty. "The thing is, miss, that we aren't sure." Something seemed to dawn on her and she reached for the clipboard at the foot of my bed, "Could you tell me your name, please?"

I was at least glad that she had a polite bedside manner. "Adelaide Lynn," I told her.

"And your last name?" she asked, and I had to explain that Lynn _was_ my last name. People tended to think I had a two-name first name. "Now, I know that the doctor will be in to check on you later, and he'll be wanting to know how you, uh, received your injuries." Kerril exhaled, seeming to bring herself up to the point. "_Do_ you remember how you received these wounds?" Her eyebrows were extending into her forehead with worry.

I cringed, and felt the bandages on my face pull uncomfortably. "I wish I didn't," I told Kerril, feeling in the middle-aged woman a motherly companion such as I hadn't in a long time. "Though," I said quickly, feeling she was going to make a wrong assumption, "I'm still really glad that all that guy did was cut me. He could've easily done much worse." My voice was gradually returning to normal, even though my throat was still sore and a little scratchy.

Eventually, the doctor did come in, and I was asked if I was willing to make a report. My face undeniably paled at the idea of coming face-to-face with military personnel. "No," I told him immediately, then added, "My mind's a bit fuzzy on what they looked like." A shudder ran down my spine, and that hurt honestly.

"They? As in, more than one person?" he asked, his eyebrows rose above his glasses, which were reflecting light at me uncomfortably. He was worried. I sighed.

"Fine, if you're going to press it Mr. Doctor, I'll make a report. Just let me heal before I do it," what I was thinking was, _let me figure out a way to get out of here without getting caught._ He let me be, his face relaxed. Damn courteous people, I was going to go insane having all these people actually trying to find my best interests. I knew I was screwed for life, but somehow the people here didn't.

With no stinking talent in anything, and what used to be my moderately okay face all effed up, there was no one who would want to even come close. Sure, the nurse and the doctor only saw someone who'd been abused, but it didn't mean that other people were like that. It'd have to be some kind of miracle for there to be even ten people who wouldn't mind looking at my face now. God, I didn't even know how much more screwed up I looked now. This was going to be horrible, waiting to see how much worse I looked.

Kerril was with me all the time; she helped me eat, seeing as I couldn't bend any part of my body without my wounds opening up. However shallow they were on my skin, the traceries he'd toiled into my skin were so _intricate_, one movement too big, and it would pull at different parts all along my limbs. The changing of my bandages was painful. They tended to stick, and turning me over to get to the lines on my back, the backs of my arms, and legs, was probably the worst part. My rib was healing. It had been broken, like I'd thought. I kept thinking if I ever saw that bastard again, I was going to kill him. Still, the waiting game dragged on. Heck, I still couldn't move my head for the lines traced on my neck up to my face.

And then, even when it became safe for me to move at least a little, I put off asking for a mirror. I realized belatedly that I probably could have asked Kerril for one a while ago. She hadn't suggested it, though it had probably occurred to her as well, and she was putting it off the same as me. Crap. It probably was _that_ bad then.

It took me an extra day of deliberation before I mustered up the courage to ask Kerril if I could see my reflection. I could finally move my lungs without fear of disturbing a broken rib; it was almost healed by now. I could also move my legs and arms to an extent, though I couldn't feed myself yet. She walked into my room with my lunch tray in her hands, a pleasant smile on her face. Here goes!

I opened my mouth for a moment, and just sighed. I tried again. "Kerril," I forced myself to say the rest, "could you get me a mirror?" I watched her face falter, and she set my tray of food down.

"After lunch," she said. I nodded, and time passed as she helped me eat. I wasn't sure what it meant, but I could make guesses. Did she think I might refuse food after seeing my face? Ugh, my stupid mouth was what had gotten me into trouble in the first place. If only… But it did no good to think about what-ifs, however tempting it might be to dwell on them.

After my tray of food was empty, Kerril moved to slowly walk out and give my tray to an orderly. She was turning halfway back to me, probably thinking of ways to put it off.

"Kerril, please. A mirror," I told her. There was a lump in my throat now. I was terrified by how bad I would look, but I knew that I couldn't keep living this way. I needed to see the damage.

Kerril looked at me for a moment, likely sensing my train of thought, and ducked out the door. I heard her quietly asking around for a handheld mirror. It got quieter outside at the nurse's station, and I could hear Kerril pause at my door before walking in. The mirror was tucked against her chest, hiding my reflection from me for a few seconds longer.

And then she slowly held the mirror up in front of me. What was she trying to pull? I thought. That wasn't me in the mirror, if it was a mirror. But I moved, and my breath became shaky, as I couldn't deny any longer that the reflection in the mirror was anyone but me. My teeth chattered, and I broke the rules, bending my arms to reach my face. I could feel the pain in that movement, yes, but yet I couldn't at the same time.

There were flaming red marks all over my face. There was also the yellow of healing bruises I'd forgotten completely. I shook visibly. And then I bent my hands to my head, and I sobbed. I leaned back against the pillows, watching from beneath my arm as the tears cascading down my face collected at the ridges of the scars beneath my eyes before falling further and following the curved line of the other scars below. The salt of my tears burned a little in the healing wounds. I couldn't look at Kerril. How had she been able to even _look_ at me without wanting to run away? How could she have _smiled_ at me and acted _so effing_ _polite?_

I lifted my scarred hands, and looked at them, my chest heaving. I sat up for the first time, against Kerril's protests, ripped the blankets from myself, and saw the possibly hundreds of red lines of dried blood through the bandages covering my body. I screamed, in agony of pain, and agony of… _What?_ What exactly was I crying for? Maybe it was because I felt like I wasn't myself anymore. If so, who the heck was I now? Who was this scarred girl sobbing in a hospital bed? It wasn't me. It wasn't me it wasn't me it wasn't me!

I could hear the footsteps of other nurses gathering at the door, a doctor coming in with a small group of them. They held me down as I screamed, and shook my head and tore open all the wounds as I squirmed. The pressure of them holding me down hurt too, but I didn't care. _What was I going to do? _I couldn't recognize myself! I felt a pain somewhere deeper than the surface, a small pinch of a needle sliding into the inside of my arm. My body tried to curl in once they released me, but they put on hospital manacles to hold me immobile so as to allow my body to heal, whether I wanted to or not. It was their job. I quieted down very fast, and ended up sobbing in my uneasy, drug-induced sleep.

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**Yes, it really is an FMA fic, but I wanted to make a **_**real**_** person, not just start it out with Ed and Al and my OC and rush through it. Forgive me if it's a little slow, or if you were expecting the brothers in this chapter. I'm not sure when I'm going to add them in exactly, but I'm not going to make you guys wait too long. That would just be rude. Your comments are **_**always**_** appreciated!  
~Kena **


	2. Ch 2 Without a Mirror

**Second Chapter! And, since I was asked by a friend, yes, the **_**italicized**_** micro-story that starts off each chapter is written by me. Its just a little drabble that pops into my head when I think about the title. There will be one for each chapter. Also, I apologize for the acute lack of Elrics. Maybe next chapter?**

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_Chapter Two: __**Without a Mirror**_

_Oh, my reflection, thee are too reliable. Long I wonder at the truth of thy own face that reflection forever wears. Oh, to be certain that there weren't another such as I who wonders where the reflections truly live._

It was a tense atmosphere the next morning. My eyes were surely red-rimmed from crying for so long. When I woke up, I was glad that Kerril was not in the room. I felt unstable, like I might snap at someone for the smallest of things. I didn't want to bring myself to full awareness; instead holding onto a sleepy stupor for as long as I could. I didn't want to think about the manacles on my wrists, my fit of insanity yesterday, my reflection.

No one, not even the doctors, dared come into my room until it was almost noon. I lay there the whole time, making myself numb to things. The sudden lack of sound when people passed by my door, the whispering of patients in the next rooms, even the way that the birds in the tree outside my window seemed afraid to chirp too loudly, forgetting to sing completely.

In this state of mind, I could picture myself with somewhat hazy eyes and a despondent expression. I did what little I could to stay still, not wanting to remind myself of the manacles, or the lines of red that wound their way over my body.

Kerril came in, but she didn't speak to me. I couldn't look at her, so I couldn't read her expression and wonder how she could _still_ look at me.

It seemed so _unreal_. Everything did. That I was in this hospital, or that I'd had to scrounge around in the Old District for yet another place to sleep, or that I'd been attacked. Nothing was going how I might've ever imagined. I hadn't imagined much in the last few years what my life might be like in the future; it was depressing. I would've liked to think, '_I never imagined this_,' but the fact was that no one would think about their future realistically and include the possible screw-ups and tragedies.

If someone had told me that I would end up scarred almost beyond recognition, I might've punched them in the face and told them to go eff themselves. If someone had told me to be wary in the Old District, I might've laughed and told them that it was obvious one should be wary in a place where trespass was forbidden by law. I could continue, thinking about if someone had told me to keep my mouth shut… well, I'd been told that a lot already. I figured that I just never learned.  
Yet, here was Kerril. She was sitting next to my bed, politely ignoring me, but still being _there._ I felt so guilty, and it didn't make sense. Why was it I who felt bad, like I'd let her down? I could only assume that it was because of how patient she was with me, and that she could walk in here every day since I'd arrived and smile flawlessly at me.

Huffing, I turned my face away from the window. I didn't actually look at Kerril, but I wasn't turned away from her anymore. The ceiling above me couldn't hold my interest for long, and my neck was sore from being turned in the direction of the window. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to turn in Kerril's direction. I heard a noise from her. A sort of amused, relieved exhalation.  
"Can I have some food and water?" I asked without opening my eyes. In fact, I almost screwed them shut.

"Sure," she said, and I heard the gentle clicking of her shoes on the floor. I could smell the food when she walked back in. It was a warm smell, and I opened my eyes, but still had a hard time meeting hers.

I worried that it would be like this from now on with a lot of people, me being unable to meet their eyes. This, at least, I wanted to fight. So what if I was scarred. I had no reason to be ashamed to meet others' eyes since it wasn't like I did this to myself.

The day passed in semi-comfortable silence. I'd asked about the manacles, and when they would take them off. Kerril had told me that it was hospital policy to keep a patient, who posed possible threat to their self, restrained until a doctor could make an official assessment on said patient's mental stability. I joked with her that the only instability I had was sarcasm.

I hadn't counted the days. There wasn't any real point besides understanding when I would have to forsake Kerril's patience and kindness and get the heck out of there before I met up with any military personnel. Those people would talk, and talk would spread, and would reach the ears of someone I'd rather not face again.

For whatever reason, the doctor who would have to consult me to get the manacles off was always busy. It was really getting on my nerves. When they came to change my bandages, there had to be a male orderly there to make sure I wouldn't, you know, go psycho and kill everyone. I just rolled my eyes, but didn't bother to take my ever-mounting annoyance out on him.

Then came the day that the doctor in charge of determining mental capability was scheduled to come and see me. I reminded myself that I shouldn't be overly sarcastic. I was nervous, and my stomach was fluttery the entire morning. What really bothered me was that the guy was probably going to take into account all of the scarring. I'd looked back into the mirror when Kerril wasn't around, and seen that the redness was fading, as were the bruises. The lines were still there, though, and would always be there.

I heard some people outside my door, and I wasn't sure whether to hold my breath, or try and relax. There was a short, quick knock, and they opened my door. In walked a doctor I'd yet to see, then came my doctor, and then came in a third person.

It was a military officer of some badge, and that was all that mattered. My stomach dropped, and I tried to breathe evenly. He wasn't getting any closer to me, but just standing at the door. I didn't focus on him, instead turning to greet my doctor. It was weird, having to look up at my doctor and the other doctor while lying flat and immobile on the bed.

My doctor seemed to have sensed my nervousness towards the military person. I chanced a look at him when my doctor looked over his shoulder to the man. Our eyes connected, and there was a spark of something between disgust and curiosity. His hand was fisted, covering his mouth. The way he held himself, it was like he was fighting coming over towards me. Either way, I could tell that curiosity was winning out.

I studiously ignored the man while I was assessed, however wrong it felt to be held prostrate on the bed in his presence. And when the assessment was over, they removed the manacles, and I sat up carefully to rub my wrists. This had to be done gently. But I examined the scarring there, tracing my fingers along the raised lines. I smiled at the doctor and thanked him for his time.

"As long as we can trust that you aren't going to overreact, you won't be wearing those restrains again," was the other doctor's way of saying goodbye. Sadly, the military officer didn't leave with him. He stayed there in the doorway, and bid goodbye to the other doctor as mine sat down on the chair next to my bed.

"You're healing really well," he told me, examining the wrist I had just examined myself. "Soon enough, I think you'll be able to get up and walk."

This made me happier, though the feeling was a tad bit awkward with that other man's audience. He coughed into his hand and strode closer. I stiffened, my eyebrows almost moving into a scowl. I reminded myself to relax.

The doctor was looking at the insides of both my arms, now, slowly moving towards my neck. He asked me to hold my hair up. I obliged, still desperately trying to ignore the fact that the other man was actually watching as the doctor's hands traced the lines and gently looked beneath the bandages.

I couldn't take it any longer when the man bent his head to see something that my doctor was taking note of on a clipboard.

"_What is your problem?"_ I asked in a borderline shout, disobeying the doctor's request that I hold still. I glared at the man. He returned the look with less animosity than I was giving him. To be honest, he actually looked amused. I still couldn't be sure, though, as his fist was still covering his mouth. It _looked_ like he might be smirking, and that just pissed me off.

The doctor looked between the two of us for a moment, and chuckled. "This, Adelaide, is Lieutenant Abe Elwood. He will be taking in your report of the person who attacked you. Once I am finished with your examination, he will take your statement."

I wanted to say something to my doctor about how I'd asked him to let me heal first, but I didn't want to give Lieutenant Elwood any reason to have suspect. I sighed, and allowed both the doctor and the strange Lieutenant to see the extent of my scars. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Elwood's expression kept changing back and forth from interest to calculation. There was no lie that this officer was disturbing me to some extent, and when the doctor finished the exam, I almost asked him to stay in the room with me. Almost, but I stopped myself. There was some small part of me that said I shouldn't appear weak in front of this other man.

The door closed behind the doctor and Elwood took his seat beside my bed, pulling from the case he'd brought a few papers. "Your name is Adelaide Lynn?" he asked, and I nodded. "Last name spelled L-y-n-n?" I nodded again. "Residence?"  
"None. I'm homeless," I answered honestly. Elwood's eyebrows were raised a little, and he inquired about where my parents were. "Dead and buried," I said, being brutally frank with him. He made a note, his mouth pursed in a way that made me think he was _still_ amused. I put my hands together on my lap rather than balling them into fists.

"How long have you been living on the streets?" he asked, and I huffed.

"Aren't you supposed to be asking me about the guy who cut me up?" His mouth twitched when I asked that, like he was fighting a smile.

"We need a little bit of background information, to be sure that this isn't a false report."

I inhaled sharply, but bit my tongue violently against the obviously rude retort, which I so badly wanted to say. Sighing, I let the anger I could control out in that exhalation, and turned back to face Elwood. "Two years," I replied curtly.

"And since then, you've had no home?"

I told him, yes.

"Now, where were you when this attack occurred?"

I knew I couldn't exactly say the Old District, but if I didn't, then how would they catch that bastard? "I'll admit it, I was passing by the Old District, and I might've crossed the line to some degree." He _hmm_-ed and wrote it down.

"And, can you describe the person who committed the attack against you?" He sounded so cynical, the way he phrased it.

"About a foot taller than me, so that'd make it, I think, 6' 3"? I'm around 5' 2" and half inches. He had dark black hair, and it was cropped pretty short. His face," I paused, trying to think about what they guy's face had looked like before he was staring down at me and smirking, "his face was pretty square, and he had beady eyes. I'd guess at about late 30's or early 40's for the bast-" I stopped and corrected myself, "for the guy's age. He was white."

"All right. Could you describe what kind of clothes he was wearing?"

"Plain brown slacks, a white long sleeved shirt. He might've had glasses on before the struggle, now that I think about it, but I'm not sure."

Elwood _hmm_-ed again, and wrote the rest down. "Okay, I think that about covers everything, if there's nothing more you'd like to add." He looked up at me, and my heart thumped. For whatever reason, this officer had a disquieting air about him.

"No, that's pretty much it," I said, still slightly tremulous after having my heart jump like that. It made me wonder exactly why this man was so frightening.

"I thank you for your cooperation, miss Lynn." He put the papers securely back into his case, and got up.

I didn't like the way he said my name. "Thank you," was my reply. For some reason, I felt like I should've said more, but he was already closing the door behind him.

I sighed, and leaned back against the pillow, relieved that it was over with. The thing was, though, that I was sure that it _wasn't_ all over. I hadn't avoided conversing with someone from the military. And word was most assuredly going to get around about the girl, Adelaide Lynn, who had been brutally attacked right in Central. Word was going to get around to that someone. That man who wanted me dead.

Maybe with my new appearance, he might not recognize me, were he even to come looking. That might be one upside to this whole mess.

Kerril wasn't in the room, so naturally, my eyes ended up resting on the mirror once again. Giving in, I picked it up and looked at myself. Without all the redness, the lines were starting to look almost graceful. The pattern looked purposeful, and, were it not for the fact that these marks had been carved into my skin, they might've even looked pretty. They were carved, though, and they were made up of scar tissue, and that made them uneven to the touch, and uneven in the shadows that they created. I looked like a freak. I cried, observing again the paths my tears took down my face.

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**Okay, so, Mr. Lieutenant Elwood is a bit of a creeper... He'll be back later, too. Any guesses why he's such a creeper? 3 Thanks for reading, and I hope that you'll review!  
~Kena **


	3. Ch 3 Conflicting

**Okay, so I _know._ I know, I know. I PROMISE! the Elric brothers are coming into the story SOON. ^^; Forgive me?**

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_Chapter Three: __**Conflicting**_

_Emotions: they drive you crazy_

_Raise you up and bring you down_

_Emotions: are all you have_

Walking again was, to put simply, strange. But when I got out of that bed, there was so much childish happiness that I had to remind myself not to move so quickly. When I went around the halls, not too many other patients really bothered me, having heard what happened. The doctors, though, they tended to slow down and observe the scars. Not me, not as a patient or a person. They seemed to dehumanize me, and look only at the extent of the damage.

I let them have their time, ignoring them completely after a bit. If this was how it was to be, I thought finally, I could live with it. If all they wanted was a curious glance, it didn't bother me so much.

Still, I was doing all I could to prove that I was ready to leave the hospital. I learned how to bandage the still problematic cuts, showed the physical therapist that I could walk on my own, no cane needed. I pushed through the therapies recommended for me, and ended up perfectly fine. The therapist commended me one day, saying that there wasn't any work to be done in my case. It made me smile.

The next morning, Kerril came to visit. She had with her a package of what looked like cloth as it was wrapped in tissue paper. She was smiling at me like always, though it looked a bit sad. I'd come to be in awe of her. Somehow, someway, she could walk a balanced line between motherly companion, best friend, and professional nurse. She sat in the seat next to my bed like always, resting the parcel in her lap.

"Hi," I said, unsure what else to do. Kerril was downcast, and her smile was very obviously sad by now.

"I overheard, when you were talking to that lieutenant, that you have no home." Her eyes were hopeful, and it made me anxious of what she was going to say next. I tried to open my mouth and say something else, but she cut me off. "I'm not trying to pity you, you know. You see I lost my daughter a few years ago. She was so ill all the time that I was always terrified of when she would finally have to let go. It was always about which morning would be the one she wouldn't wake.

"And I was so surprised when I saw you come into this hospital; you were so young, and yet so hurt. I did pity you then, but I saw that it was wrong of me. In the days when I tended to you and you wouldn't wake up, I saw that I was filling a space left by my daughter with your pain. And when you woke up, I was so glad that you were alive. If you hadn't woken, I would've just allowed myself to feel pain for your loss and not get over Milla's death.

"You probably don't want to hear all of this, but what I'm trying to convey is that, you're like a second daughter to me, and I can't just allow you to live on the streets."

She paused long enough here that I could speak. "I can't. I can't accept anymore of your kindness, much less a home." Even I was surprised at the words coming out of my mouth. "I'm here of my own accord, and I have to deal with these trials." Even I was surprised at the truth of these words.

"I thought you might say something along those lines. So here, the last vestige of my ability to treat you like the second daughter I love. They're discharging you tomorrow, and I knew that you didn't have any clothes." She smiled again, and her eyes looked watery, like she was close to tears. Maybe that was what I looked like too. I leaned forward and hugged her. We stayed like that for a minute, and then pulled away. Her hand lingered, her fingers running through my lengthy blonde hair.

"What about the expenses?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Just because a patient doesn't have money for treatment doesn't mean we throw them out on the streets. There isn't a debt, either."

I blushed, and sighed. I looked down at the parcel that Kerril had given me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Adelaide."

Just like Kerril said, they released me the next day. The clothes she'd bought me were good, the durable kind. I needed them. Everything else that I'd worn was trash now. Despite if it were to be repaired, there were the stains that I'd rather not look at. My boots were still in very good shape, at least.

Her gift consisted of long black slacks that allowed me to cuff the legs up to my knees and button them there, though for this windy weather, I kept them long. A black formfitting top that, at the point where sleeves would begin, instead tapered across my collarbone to wrap around my neck. There was a black leather jacket that was long to my ankles, and sleek and fit my body like a second skin. It had a hood, and silver tassels that hung from the neck. Included were black, fingerless gloves, which were also leather.

I couldn't imagine how much it must have cost Kerril to buy me these things. I could've cried and run back to the hospital to give her back the things she'd given me, but I knew that it would only make her sad again. My best effort to appreciate these gifts would be to use them.

I'd made it outside. After being inside for so long, I was struck again by the fact that this was my new reality. I knew this for truth, as the people I walked past looked strangely at me. Even now, though, they didn't matter in the least. For now, in these new clothes, my body clean from the last shower and my hair combed and pulled into dual ponytails; I could pretend I was normal. This was as normal as it would probably be for a long while. I may have been a bit optimistic on that front, though.

I began to think about what that man would do to me, if he got word. Vehemently, I pushed the thought away. All I wanted was to spend at least this day as normally as I could. That meant that I shouldn't be looking over my shoulder to check if that man was around.

Instead, I looked up at the sky, observing the roiling clouds above. It was so nice of Kerril to give me a hooded jacket. I walked around, looking at the quaint little shops, the impressive business offices, and from a distance, the imposing military offices. Central was pretty slow today, I saw. During my meanderings around town, I kept looking for any signs that said places were hiring. Unfortunately for me, no one was.

My meanderings were slowed when the rain, which had started some time ago, picked up. Somehow I'd ended up in a more residential district, and it was later than I'd thought. My peripheral vision informed me of something looming up out of the dark rain ahead and to my right. I stepped back, conveniently, into a small alcove of a building.

It was a man, wearing a hoodless jacket. He was soaking from the downpour, and I didn't understand why he would be out here. I looked in the direction he was walking and saw a house across the wide street. This house was looming, and obviously expensive; it had a fence around the front yard. The gate was cordoned off, and there were two military officers in raincoats that looked to be posted outside. I couldn't hear the words exchanged between the officers and the man as he drew closer.

I almost stepped out of the alcove when, all at once, the man lunged at one of the officers. I didn't comprehend what was happening as his right hand connected with the other man's face. He wasn't punching, but actually grabbing, the man's face. And then, I couldn't believe it, there were fountains of blood spewing from the man's eyes, and his ears, and his nose, and… I was trying to look away. I was desperately trying, but nowhere close to being able to.

I held back my vomit as I recognized a sound against the rain. It was the other officer's partially formed yell, before he too was slumped against the ground. I couldn't move. Then the quickly coming vomit _made_ me move. I made my way to the side of the building a few feet away and choked up all of my last meal.

Everywhere, blood was everywhere, spreading across the road, towards where I stood. Running, I was running, almost tripping over myself. My hood fell back; the rain plastered my hair to my face, and my neck, and it was uncomfortable, it itched. My scars were itching again. I had to stop somewhere. I needed a place to throw up again.

It was another house, or so I thought, and that meant that I was still too close to that other house. I barely registered that I wasn't even vomiting anymore, but dry heaving. I couldn't even register that there was someone coming out of that building. It did register, though, when I was shouted at.

A male voice yelled, though I couldn't distinguish words.

My head whipped around, and I began to shakily make my way up from the ground. A hand gripped my shoulder, and I wasn't sure if I was being helped up or yanked back. The guy's face didn't look angry, but I was scared, and I was starting to lose all ability to reason. Wordlessly, I began to pull away, struggling. There was another hand reaching for me, and the guy's expression was one of shock. This may have been because of the shock of what my face looked like. Whether that was because of my scars or my expression, it didn't matter. He loosened his grip enough that I spun away, and kept on running.

My thoughts weren't coherent enough for me to question what the hell was going on. The only thing that made sense was running, going as fast and as far as I could away. Away, away from this horrible place where everywhere there was blood, and shocked people and murderers.

The next day, I was surprised to find myself alive. I hurt, and I knew that this was because of my mad flight through Central. Thankfully, the clothes that Kerril had given me weren't ruined. They were wet though, and I let them dry in what relatively warm area there was of the abandoned shop I'd woken up in. It was still raining, and I made a fire out of the wooden bones of the shop to help dry my clothes quicker. It was early morning. Far too early to be awake, and yet here I was.

When my clothes were dry and on my back again, I was still reluctant to leave the relative safety of this place. Truly, every time I tried to leave and find a way to begin a better life, terrible things happened. What was going to happen next? Was it that my having a good life was impossible?

I thought of Kerril, and her willingness to allow me to wander, yet give me exactly what I needed. She wouldn't want me to stay locked up in one place out of fear. After all, wasn't it what she said she'd done? Lived in fear? She valued my ability to try again. I didn't want to let her down. I didn't want to let myself down.

I put out the fire, and donned my warm jacket. Though the physical heat faded quickly, I felt the inner warmth of Kerril's hope. Even with the knowledge of what I'd seen last night, I had to at least try and find a job. Getting off of the streets so as not to wander around into anymore trouble was my first stop.

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**Next update will be early since this one was late, but I need to know your opinions. If you don't want to review now, at least review on the next chapter. Please.  
~Kena **


	4. Ch 4 Daylight

**Early update, as promised. Hope you like it!**

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Chapter Four:__** Daylight**_

_Of course things are irrelevant once you can see them in daylight; it changes all perspective, all color; it adds warmth. How can you compare it?_

Again, there were no hiring signs. This time, my stomach was also bothering me. During my stay at the hospital, I'd had three meals a day. Now, I had no money to pay for food, and no goodwill from others to share any of theirs. I cringed when I thought about if I could even eat after what I'd seen last night. And with that, I was no longer hungry. Yes, my stomach eventually became painful, but I didn't crave food. Around noon, I found myself in a smaller subset of Central, in an area with a clock tower.

My hood and the continual rain helped hide my face as I found a place to stand out of the downpour. I was surprised when I didn't get as many looks. Interested, I glanced around a little more, wondering what made this area different than the others. Then I saw that this place wasn't different, it was simply that a person wearing a large suite of armor, who was sitting on the steps of the clock tower, already occupied their attention. There was a boy sitting next to the man wearing armor that I only noticed because of the vivid red jacket he wore. The two of them seemed downcast. I probably would be too in their situation, seeing as the boy was probably soaking, and the man in armor probably cold.

I let my hood drop further forward as a young couple with a baby passed me by. They were happy, and my mind drifted onto the subject of children. I'd yet to see one with this new face of mine. My heart fell a little.

My attention was called when a military officer went running up to the boy. And as he and the boy began talking, my heart and stomach plunged. There was the man who had murdered those other men last night, looming up behind the officer; the boy visibly stiffened. The officer tried to pull out his gun and, and he died the same way as the others last night, just, quicker. And the boy and the man in armor were just _standing there._

With my heart lodged in my throat, I somehow managed to cry out to them, "Run!"

It thawed the boy out, and he and his companion started running. But I needed to help them, and I'd already been running ahead of them. It was coincidence that we ran in the same direction. Suddenly, I recognized an alley that I knew had a clear way through to another street. From there, it was a maze to those who hadn't yet had the pleasure of learning its trickery. I was one such person.

I turned around that corner and shouted just loudly enough, "Over here! This way!"

The armored man seemed to hear me, and he pulled the short boy in my direction. I began to go down the alley, and was about halfway when I realized that they'd stopped at the mouth of the alley.

I stopped, yelling again just loudly enough, "What are you doing?"

The boy spared me a momentary glance while the armored man touched a freshly drawn chalk circle on the ground with both hands. A wall rose out of the ground, alchemic blue bolts helping shape it's growing form. I wouldn't have guessed that the man in armor was an alchemist. And while we might be safe for now, it was still better to keep moving. I was about to voice this opinion when a small crack appeared and rapidly became a huge hole through which the murderer could be seen. As he stepped through, the rest of the wall collapsed.

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest, and we all began running at the same time. I didn't dare look back, but I had no choice except to notice the giant crack forming alongside the wall to our right. They wouldn't make it if they didn't run faster! I slowed for a fraction of a second, and that was when I saw the wall of the building cave into the alleyway between us. I'd barely avoided being hit by flying debris, but I was afraid for the man in armor and the boy. Either they were on the other side of the pile, or they were under it. It was a moment, and then I heard what I was sure was the boy's voice.

"Why are you going after us?"

Now was the dilemma. I personally couldn't help either of them, but maybe someone else could. The military would be interested in this murderer, but how could I convince them? There wasn't any doubt that, if left to their own devices, those guys would die. I bolted for it down a few streets, running towards the first military building I could find. I burst into the doors, startling a secretary behind a desk.

"Quick! Call the MP's! There's a murderer a few streets over and he's corned two guys!" I told her, and she reached for a phone, dialing quickly.

"What is his description?" she asked.

"White hair, glasses, yellow jacket, big X shaped scar on his face," I said in a rush. She started talking really fast into the phone, then.

"The description of the two who are cornered?"

"One guy is in armor, the other is a short boy with blonde hair."

When she hung up, she grabbed my arm. My brows knitted together in confusion, then.

"We're going to talk to my superior," she said, pulling me.

"Forget that, is anyone going to help those guys?" I questioned, retrieving my arm from her grip.

"Yes, Colonel Mustang and those under his command had already dispatched to look for the Elrics, but knowing their location was also helpful. Now come with me," she grabbed my arm again.

I shook my head, and jerked back my hood. It worked, and her surprise helped me get my arm back, and I ran back out the door. Now I heard a gunshot in the distance, and I was afraid for those guys again. I ran towards the scene, only to be stopped by a stony faced MP. And then I heard a crash, like when that building collapsed. There was a tremor in the earth.

"Are those guys alright? The one in the armor and the boy?"

"I can't allow you any further, now leave this dangerous area before I remove you myself!"

I stopped fighting against him, instead only standing there. "Are they alright? It's all I'm asking."

His face was scrutinizing me when he answered, "I'm not even sure whom you're talking about," he said, avoiding my question.

"Damn it! The big guy in armor, and the short blond boy in the red jacket! Oh forget it!" I started trying to push past him again.

I heard yelling, but the words were hard to understand from this far away. I finally got past the MP after tripping him up. I was stopped again. This time, it was someone other than a policeman.

I decided to try and take advantage of this, rather than getting myself into more trouble. "Maybe you can help me," I said, absently tugging my hood a little further over my face. "That guy back there was absolutely, hey wait!" The guy was looking speculatively at me, and his hand had been fast reaching for my hood. I took a step back and hopefully out of his reach. "What are you trying to do?"

Swifter than I might've expected, my hood was pulled back, and I instantly reached to replace it. Realization struck as I saw that this man was someone I knew. It was the man who'd shouted at me the other night when I was out of my mind. I gasped, but somehow, he'd grabbed the hood of my jacket and was dragging me away.

"What're you, let me go!" I told him, trying desperately to replace my hood and hide my face, as well as get out of his grip. He ignored me, and addressed someone from around a corner, having dragged me some distance.

"Oh? Is it all over?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, where have you been up until now?" A deep male voice asked from somewhere around the corner where I couldn't see.

"I was in hiding," he said, and gave the other person a thumbs-up.

Another person walked up to the person, who I now knew as Lt Colonel Hughes, who was still inhibiting me from getting up from the ground. He had short black hair, and very serious dark eyes. He looked irritated. "You were supposed to provide backup!" he said straight into the Lt Colonel's face. He was probably a higher rank.

"A normal guy like me isn't going to be part of some sort of "Believe it or Not" episode with nutcases like you guys!" Hughes replied, unshaken, and I couldn't tell if they were dire enemies, or just very good friends.

I shifted, trying to at least make myself comfortable if I was going to have to sit here and not be given any answers. My movement caught the attention of the irritated man, and he looked warily between Hughes and I. He couldn't get a good look at my face, I made sure to only show what little I could while sizing him up.

He looked back at Hughes stonily. "What is that?" he asked, obviously meaning me.

"A girl I ran into last night. I think she may have information."

"How did you run into her?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She seemed to be running for her life." Hughes replied, still unfazed.

The serious guy face-palmed himself, and started to say something when Hughes interrupted, addressing a couple of officers.

"Hey! There's other stuff to do, if you're finished fighting! I want a rapid deployment of sketches within the city!"

We all looked up when we heard someone shout, "Alphonse!"

It was the short blond boy, and he was… _missing his arm?_ Then my eyes focused, and I saw that the stump had an automail connection. What had happened? He was crouched in front of the guy in armor, but it wasn't the _guy_ in armor, seeing as it was empty. I could see that because part of the armor had been deteriorated or broken off. The armor was now missing a leg, and the chest cavity was open on that same side; I wondered how the right arm was still attached.

"Al! Are you okay? Hey!" The boy said to the armor.

I must've missed something, because no one else quite seemed to fully react to the fact that the guy from the armor was missing, and his companion was talking to the armor like he was still there when he wasn't. And then,

"You… stupid brother!" the empty armor _said,_ and _punched_ the boy in the face.

The boy held the side of his face that had just gotten punched while the armor leaned forward and shouted at him some more.

"Why didn't you run away when I told you to run away?" he shouted.

"Because I can't just leave you behind and run away," the boy said, a hurt look on his face as he spoke back to armor like there was absolutely nothing odd in the least about their predicament. He was swiftly punched again by the armor, and fell back with the force.

"That's why I called you stupid!" he shouted.

I looked around, seeing that there actually were people reacting to this, except in a different way. The military personnel were holding onto what seemed like the last of their ability to keep a somewhat professional appearance, while really wondering what was going on, inside. The companions were just sitting there fighting.

"What's up with you? If I was the only one who got away, you might have been killed!" the boy shouted, getting angry.

"I might not have been killed!" the armor carried on, "How could you do something stupid like choosing to die when you could keep living?"

And this part really surprised me. The boy pulled himself up, metaphorically, and he shouted back at the armor, "Don't go up to your big brother and say he's stupid!"

That was unexpected. The short blond boy was the _older_ one? Exactly how old was he anyway? And how could these two be brothers?

"I'll say it again and again! You might find a way to restore our bodies if you survive and learn more about alchemy…!" The armor grabbed the front of the boy's shirt and continued, "And you might even find a way to save a poor girl like Nina! But how could you toss away that possibility and pick death? I absolutely won't forgive you, if you do that!"

At that moment when there was a slight second of silence besides the rain, the armor's right arm suddenly fell off. It was the very same arm holding the boy's shirtfront.

"Aw, my right arm came off!" the armor proclaimed in exasperation. "Brother, you retard!"

Still, in all of this oddness, I'd forgotten to be glad that they weren't killed. Though it looked like some damage had been dealt, the manners of the people here were lighthearted enough that I could assume that things would easily be put to right. I smiled.

The short boy's back relaxed forward from where I could see, and the armor leaned back against the wall. They seemed happy enough to have gotten through it, whatever the full situation was that I'd missed whilst getting help.

"Ah, we're all beat up. There's no way we can suck this much," I barely heard the boy say, his voice only teasing at being disappointed; he sounded tired and relieved.

"But we're alive," the somewhat echo-sounding voice of the armor said, looking down on his older brother, not even pretending to hide his relief.

"Yeah. We're alive," the boy said as a woman came and put her jacket over the boy's shoulders.

I saw the look on the man Hughes' face as he exchanged looks with the serious man. My stomach dropped when they both turned to look at me. Hughes had let go of me some time during the brothers' quarrel, and I had pulled my hood resolutely back up. Now, I pulled myself up, with their eyes on me, and stood before them. I crossed my arms, waiting for them to say what it was they expected of me.

I rolled my eyes when there was an awkward silence between us. "Fine," I said, throwing up my arms, my body trembling with nervous energy at their silent communication. "Hello, it is pleasant to meet you, Mr. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, and…?" I left off looking at the serious man. His mouth twitched somewhat. I huffed, carrying on as if he'd actually given me a name after another moment of silence. "My name is Adelaide. Do we share a common point of interest of query, or shall I excuse myself from this area?" I was getting snippy with the lack of communication.

Hughes turned to me, his face serious, mimicking the frown that his cohort wore. "As I said earlier, I believe that you have information. The other night when I saw you, you looked terrified. And the direction you were running from… Did you see anything?"

The way he phrased it, it sounded like there was actually something he was trying _not_ to say. I let out a breath, knowing full well that if I gave them even the slightest hint of what I'd seen, that they would eventually drag the whole thing out of me anyway. And with what had happened to me, _my_ circumstances, I didn't want to let the guy who'd killed those men the other night, and attacked these brothers today, get away. If I could help, even just a little…

"Yes, I did," I said with only the slightest of pauses, "There was a house with guards outside of it, a nice, big house. I was walking by when the man who attacked _them_," I nodded my head in the direction of the brothers, "walked right past me and killed the guards before my eyes."

I couldn't tell if the men before me reacted to what I'd said. I was a little numb, looking, unhappily, at what I'd witnessed that night to see if there was any other help I could provide.

"How did he kill them?" one of them asked. My eyes were unfocused as I tried really hard to think about the smallest details that I'd absorbed, and I looked at the ground.

"His right hand. He walked up to them, grabbed their foreheads, and then there was" I paused, I took a breath, "There was blood spurting from their eyes, and ears, and it was everywhere."

Again, I couldn't see if there was any reaction from the two. Then,

"It fits, to a point," the serious man said, his hand on his chin contemplatively. "Were you seen?"

I cringed, unsure of this fact myself. "I don't think so. It was still raining heavily, and I was hiding."

The serious man's reaction did not make me feel reaffirmed in the least. The sinking feeling pulled at my heart, and all I wanted to do was get somewhere away from here. It was a feeling occurring more and more often in my heart.

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**So, the ending was actually pretty hard to try and make. I wanted to keep going, but it felt like I was dragging it out a bit too much... Also, I'm very very sure that you guys can guess who the serious guy is. I hope I got his personality right! A HUGE THANK YOU to all that reviewed my chapters!  
~Kena **


	5. Ch 5 Immediate

**So, this chapter took a while, but its all good. I think I'll avoid getting sick in the future :) **

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_Chapter Five: __**Immediate**_

_A way to go or to stay, a way, away, a way, from you or to you,_

_How to return to you, how to return to myself, could be one and the same?_

_Find me now. Please find me here; I have no time to waste on dying when you're waiting for me, so close._

"_So the hollow suit of armor is the Fullmetal Alchemist's younger brother? I've never heard of soul transmutation before!"_

"_It's most likely that he was ready to throw away his own life to transmute him. That's why the bond between those brothers is strong."_

"_We can't let this matter settle down yet. They're targets of a dangerous man."_

"_An Ishvarite, huh? Looks like things are going to get rougher."_

I was practically a prisoner of these men as they discussed things just barely within my earshot. Whether or not it was intentional, I heard it all.

Before this, no matter what I did, the serious man and the man named Hughes never gave me an answer. I'd turned to walk away from the two of them, happy to get on with the rest of my day, but there was some kind of aura that emanated from the serious man. I looked over my shoulder, sighed, and followed them slowly as they walked to join a very muscular man with a handlebar mustache and who wore large gauntlets of a sort; they bore transmutation marks on the backs of the hands. He was a state alchemist, no doubt.

I stood with arms crossed, leaning against a wall in somewhat of a shadow, my hood firmly over my face. I watched the two brothers, as I now knew them to be, being helped. The suit of armor boy was covered with tarps strapped to conceal the gaping hole in his side, and put into a car. The short blond boy made sure to keep his little brother safe throughout all this. Then, he seemed to notice me. I looked down, hunched my shoulders a bit, my head turned away slightly. He walked up to me, tried to see my face, but couldn't because I wouldn't let him. It was an awkward minute and then he put his left hand behind his neck, and shook his head.

"Thank you for trying to help us get away, and thanks for getting help," he said, a bit abashed.

I couldn't help my eyes from wandering onto the automail connection where his arm used to be, and where his automail had formerly been. Somehow he saw my gaze through the gloom. I felt that I needed to say something.

"Are you and your brother going to be alright?" I asked. It seemed a good enough question to cure the silence.

He seemed happier at this question, yet a bit gloomy. "Yeah, but," his face appeared as if it were in more shadow than was possible, "My mechanic is going to kill me…"

I laughed a little, surprised that he wasn't so worried about the murderer as he was about what the maker of his automail would do to him. "I'm sure you'll be alright." I held out a hand for him, my left instead of my normal right hand to be considerate. "I'm Adelaide."

He came back to himself somewhat, and shook my hand, "Edward Elric," he introduced himself. I twitched.

"You're the Fullmetal Alchemist?" I wondered aloud, my eyes wide. I recovered quickly, as he seemed dismayed at my reaction. "I'm just very surprised, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

I secretly wondered at the fact that this boy was my age, and with a rank that would equal a Major, yet he was so short. What I meant was, he was possibly a little taller than I, but not so tall as some of the other boys our age. His choice of going into the military at this age had me questioning his likely motivation.

"No last name?" he asked, now catching that I'd only given him a first name. We released our hands.

I shook my head. "To you, not yet." I smirked teasingly. Something dawned on me to ask him. "That guy over there," I pointed to the serious man, "Who is he? Rude man wouldn't give me a name even though I gave him mine."

His eyes warily followed the direction of my pointing hand. "Is there any reason why I should tell you?" he raised an eyebrow at me.

Sighing, I rolled my eyes. "For some reason, the damned man won't let me leave. I told him all I know, and though the man won't say it aloud one way or the other, I'm not allowed to go anywhere. I'd at least like to know with whom I am annoyed." I set my jaw firmly. "Can't get a job standing in an alley all day with the military."

Unthinkingly, I crossed my arms and reached up to trace a scar on my jaw line. It took me a second to realize that I may have just shown Edward, I couldn't think of him as Mr. Elric or the Fullmetal Alchemist being that we were the same age, part of my face. If he did, he said nothing of it.

My eyes strayed yet again to the automail connection. The thought of automail always made me sad. I could even see a few lines of scarring around the collarbone prosthetic connection. There was a moment when I wanted to ask Edward what had happened to him, but most things like that were thorny memories. I know I liked to keep my secrets in the past.

A lady called Edward's attention, and we both looked up. It was the rather pretty blond woman who'd lent Edward her jacket. She was walking towards us. "Edward, we're ready to leave now," her brown eyes flicked to me, "You, as well, are to accompany us."

My eyebrows shot up, though she probably couldn't see that with my hood up. "You're kidding me!" I said, my hands in fists at my sides. "I've told you guys all that I know, why do you need me?" There was a fear, no, a terrible fear inside of me. My hands were shaking. _He_ must've heard, then. He must've found me, and now I was as good as dead. _Damn_, I thought, _if I resist, they'll still make me go along with them._ Along with that fear, there was still the want, the need to live, inside of me. I did not want to die.

I tried to recover from my bout of anxiety. I could tell that Edward was looking at me, and I took a deep breath, sensing that this was entirely that serious man's fault.

"'We going?" I asked Edward, starting to walk. I could tell that Edward was curious of me, as well as that pretty blond woman. The ride back to the headquarters was uncomfortably quiet and tense. I could tell that they thought it odd I should keep my hood up inside the car. There was an unspoken altercation on whether or not they would ask me why this was so. They didn't, not yet.

When we were all seated in the serious man's office, which I finally learned his name was Colonel Mustang, he took a seat behind his desk and explained to us the long and short of the Ishvalan Civil War. Who the Ishvarites were and that they worshipped the God Ishvara, and that there were always conflicts between our county and theirs because of their religious views. The tensions mounted until an Ishvarite child was accidentally shot by an Amestrian officer. From there it became a civil war, and after seven years of back and forth fighting, the Führer declared that the State Alchemists were to be deployed into action against the uprisings in an annihilation campaign. The practitioners became human weapons.

"I was one of those practitioners. That is why that man, a survivor of Ishvar, is justified in wanting revenge," the Colonel told us gravely.

With his head somewhat down, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed, Edward opposed him, saying, "That's bullshit. There's no such thing as justice and crap in getting revenge on innocent people. He's only wrapping his craving for vengeance by acting like a "messenger of God" and being all high and mighty about it."

Hughes, sitting backwards from the desk whose chair he occupied spoke up. "But someone who despises alchemy is using that same alchemy to get revenge." A pause, then, "The sort of people who don't care how things get done are the most dangerous… and the scariest ones."

Mustang rested his jaw on his fist, sitting in an almost nonchalant, yet contemplative position. "We also cannot worry about how things get done. We cannot die yet. The next time we meet, there will be no talk." The room was still and he said firmly, "We will take him out."

Reaffirming looks were sent in Mustang's direction from the men under his power. Edward and Alphonse, the younger brother in the empty armor, were quiet and thinking. I felt like an unnecessary body in this room of stony-faced people, my hood still pulled over my face, standing as close to the door as possible. Hughes took it upon himself to break the tense moment.

"Anyhow! This is getting boring. Here ends this topic." He pushed himself up from his seat purposefully and walked to the two Elrics. "What are you Elric brothers going to do now?"

Edward was thoughtful for a moment, but in a much less serious way this time. "Yeah… I want to fix Al's armor, but I can't use that technique with this arm…"

"Shall I fix you?" the muscled man with the handlebar mustache asked, enthusiastically flexing his arms.

"I'll pass," Alphonse said without pause.

Edward pulled the towel draped over his shoulders a bit more over his automail connection when he spoke, saying, "I'm the only one who knows how Al's soul is bound to the armor… So first I have to fix my arm."

1st Lieutenant Hawkeye, the pretty blond lady, put her hand to her mouth, "That's right, since Edward can't use alchemy…" she trailed off.

"Just another kid with a rotten tongue," said a bond guy with a cigarette in his mouth.

"A bratty little midget," pronounced Hughes.

"Worthless. Worthless!" Mustang declared.

"Sorry brother, I can't say anything," Alphonse told his brother sincerely.

"That's bullying!" Edward shouted, irritated. "I guess I have no choice," he sighed. "I'll have to go to my mechanic."

I felt out of place, but quickly enough, the majority of the group was leaving Mustang's office. Edward spared a glance in my direction after Alphonse had been helped out of the room, and just before he closed the door behind him.

Now, there was only Mustang, Hawkeye, and myself. I didn't have to be told that it was time for him to confront me with whatever had occupied his mind earlier. I pushed myself away from the wall, and walked closer to his desk. His slightly smug face irritated me, and I wanted to beat that look off of his face.

"Men who wear such faces as yours so openly are usually doomed to failure by their own prides. I think that you must know this, but believe so thoroughly in yourself that this is a minor piece of knowledge. What is it that you require of me that I may be free to leave?" Feeling more confident, I took a seat in front of him, feigning nonchalance in the way in which I sat.

"That's most likely true, but as you say, I'm too self-confident. Now, tell me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that Brigadier-General Atharial didn't have any daughters." He said this all smoothly, anticipating the response, which I would have to give him.

"Atharial? Don't know the name," I told him. It was lesser than a simple conversation; it was a trading of lines set by the stage of our situation.

"Really, because you bear a striking resemblance. If you would remove you hood, I could better see if my first impression was true." He knew what he was asking.

"Are there actual grounds on which you are allowed to hold me here?"

"Oh, those are easily enough conjured up. I would rather not have to do such a thing, so if you would be so kind…" He sat back, smug.

"Well, since I'd rather not have enemies," I trailed off, and removed my hood. My scars no doubt were very visible under these lights. I folded my hands in my lap, hiding the tremors running through my body. Mustang was hoping to use me as blackmail against that man. A more depraved part of me wanted to laugh in Mustang's face for the sheer stupidity of his belief that I could be a bargain made between them.

He shook his head, a smile playing around his face. "And the resemblance slaps me in the face again." How _I _wanted to slap him in the face when he smirked so openly. "Now, tell me again that you don't know who Atharial is."

"You really are a dog, aren't you? Smell something that you think is good, and you'll dedicate your tiny little brain to trying to dig it up." I stood. "I do believe that we're done here, Colonel. If you'll excuse me." I turned to leave.

"You're shaking. Any particular reason?" his raised voice grated on my nerves and my hand rested for a moment on the handle of the door. I did not turn to face him.

"Think of a good one, tell me it later if you so wish, if I'm not gone by then. That file on your desk, I saw it, will tell you the basics of where to find me and why my face is the way it is. Dig up whatever skeletons you think you have on me, and see if I don't end up dead in the streets. I'm sure it'll make an outstanding case against this Atharial person. Good day." I opened the door a little, and he called out to me again.

"Today isn't a good day, thank you, and I _will_ drag up whatever I can find. You could make this a lot easier if you were willing to give me the information. There might be a roof over your head in it for you, protection with what is within my jurisdiction, were you to talk to me."

I wanted so badly to laugh in his face and leave all of this behind me, but he was being honest, and I would most likely end up dead. I hunched my shoulders forward, unhappy to be considering his offer. "And what exactly would be 'within your jurisdiction'? Atharial is not only a Brigadier General, but he is also ruthless. He has more power than you, and it does not quite cross me that you would be able to contest his chain of command. I also feel obligated to be honest with you," I looked over my shoulder at him, "there is nothing that Atharial would trade for me, if that is your intention. The only thing that man desires is my death, and he would not make the mistake of killing me while forsaking his duties as a Brigadier General. Unless you are the kind of person to give me as a gift to Atharial, my death would still be the same in trade. It would equal nothing to him."

The silence between us was stagnant. My words and his offer still hung in the air. I wanted to find a way to put Atharial in the ground, but the man so terrified me. I wanted to cry, but I would not in front of this man. I took a steadying breath as quietly as I could manage.

"I will accept your offer."

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**The ending... It was so hard to leave off like that, but if I didn't, I think it would've dragged. I hope that no one hates me for what _my_ Mustang is like, in my mind.  
~Kena **


	6. Ch 6 Unlearned

**GRR! I'm so very, very sorry that it took so long to update. Fanfiction just had some weird problem that prevented me from uploading this no matter what I tried. Finally, it seems to have fixed itself! I dunno. Read on!**

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_Chapter Six: __**Unlearned**_

_There are few things that I cannot forget. _

_As for the others, they have become unlearned._

Things were arranged. A few calls were made, and I could only sit in Mustang's office, waiting for him to question me. The calls were about where I would stay and all such likeness. He talked confidentially to Hawkeye, and she left and came back with a few documents. I thought about what I knew about Atharial, if any of it was past taboo to speak of. Well, it was obvious that I wouldn't lie about him, but I had to avoid leading any questions to open topics. I would have to dance around certain facts, and I wasn't sure I could keep it up if this day got much longer.

My stomach turned inside of me when he finally faced me, and I had to stop the nervous jittering of my body from making my legs knock together. I tried to breathe, but couldn't. I spoke anyway, "What do you want to know?"

"His wife. Start with that, what happened to her?" His voice was flat, his eyes full of intrigue.

"Gitta," I said her name with some hesitation, "was a wonderful person, and as a dutiful daughter to her parent's wishes, she agreed to marry Cristof Atharial of her own volition. She would not have a rumor spread that she had been forced to marry a man with such standing and promise for a good future. But like most women in her position, Gitta couldn't lie to her own heart about what it did and did not desire. She fell in love with a man who was indebted to the Atharial name, and was thus a servant in the manor. Atharial himself was none too pleased to learn of this, and punished not only Gitta and her lover, but also her lover's wife. Gitta… is the way she is today, because of the things that he subjected her to then." I wanted to protect Gitta's privacy, but hoped that maybe she would not have hated me for entrusting her secret life to this man.

Mustang had a small notebook propped in front of him, and he scribbled into it. The writing continued for a minute, and then he spoke again. "What about the boy she gave birth to? Whose was he, then?"

"It doesn't matter whose child he was, Tobias was his own person regardless. What does matter is what Atharial did to him. Whether or not Tobias was his own blood, Atharial was brutal to him, and he was constantly used against Gitta to bend her will." I set my jaw when I spoke of him, the boy who had been my brother.

"How is it that you are assimilated into Atharial's plans? I could guess, but I would rather have the truth from your own lips."

I exhaled. "Really now? You think that… Ah, but it isn't worthy of being upset over. I am a child of Atharial's, as you so expressed before. When Atharial punished Gitta and her lover, he also raped Jana, who was the unlucky wife of Gitta's lover. She was my mother."

This was the past, and it did not hurt me. I shook only because of the way that Mustang looked at me. I also had to wonder if any of this information would help him, seeing as all of this had happened a long time ago. If anyone had noticed anything amiss, I would be astounded to learn that they had the mind to remember it in detail.

A voice, obviously born of my pessimism, worried if I would receive anything in compensation for a story too old to be of any use now. I had a hard time finding reasons to believe that this voice spoke anything other than the truth. I tried to subtly move to sit on my right hand. I had a nasty habit of chewing on my nails until I hit the quick. My fingers were sensitive and painful for days after.

"So, what happened to Jana? You said that your parents were both dead."

I was momentarily confused, wondering when I'd told him this. Then I remembered the file that had been made when I was attacked. "Yes, well, Jana died in childbirth. My mother's husband raised me."

I was surprised that, when I was escorted out of Mustang's office, there was actually a car waiting to drive me to the hotel where I would be staying. I had forgotten somehow, in all of the stress earlier, to be amazed by the feeling of riding in such a nice vehicle. It had been a while, before today, since I'd had the privilege. It sure beat walking; I was weary of walking, of wandering. Maybe, just maybe, I would be able to actually find a way to leave behind the streets for good. I hoped.

I sat in the car, relaxing against the seat, and watching the gloomy city pass by. I thought about tomorrow, about if I would see the day after that as well.

Mustang had told me that Brigadier General Atharial would be coming into this city within two days time. There was no doubt that I had paled at his words. I had put as much distance between us at possible when I'd first gotten away from him, yet this distance was about to grow a whole lot less. My scars felt alive on my skin, and I slowly allowed my hands to knit together to keep from tearing at them.

"But," he had said, "it would probably be easier just to send you somewhere else for the time being." My brow knitted, and I wasn't sure what he was hinting at. He continued with, "The Fullmetal Alchemist is leaving tomorrow along with Alphonse. Accompanying them will be the Strong-Arm Alchemist, Major Armstrong. I have already obtained your train ticket. You will depart with them tomorrow morning."

My eyes had widened, though I felt the need to grasp immediately at this prospect. I held myself in check, and simply nodded my head in ascent. How the Elric brothers felt about this didn't faze me at first. I hadn't thought to ask until after the car had departed.

When we arrived at the hotel, I allowed myself to smile. It had been a long time since I'd slept on a _real_ bed. I didn't exactly count the hospital bed, seeing as that place always tended to smell too alien for me to feel completely comforted. I walked in, the driver accompanying me to confirm my stay with the front desk. After all was done, I thanked the driver, and went slowly, though eagerly, up the stairs to find my room. The key in my hand made me feel secure, though I wasn't all too sure why. I considered that it might have been the thought of having four walls and a locked door between me and the other people in this world.

My boots made resounding sounds against the wooden floor. I had grown unaccustomed to trying to make my steps quiet against anything other than stone. I did my best to lighten my steps. A door opened slowly behind me, and I was sure that I had disturbed someone, and that they had come to accost me. I hurried to the door immediately to my right, which bore the same number as the one engraved on the key in my hand. I kept my eyes on the lock as I failed to insert the key, but was glad when I heard the door close. I sighed, and relaxed, placing the key more gently at the lock's opening in hopes of actually opening the door.

"Need help?" a familiar voice said behind me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

I was too embarrassed in the first place from not being able to get the key in when I thought that someone was going to complain about me, and now that it was quite the opposite, I almost didn't want to reply. "No, I'm able," came out of my mouth before I could stop it. "I mean, sorry if I disturbed you." The key slipped into the lock at that moment, and I swiftly turned the bolt. "Goodnight, Edward."

"Hey wait," he tried to talk to me, though what about I couldn't fathom, and my exhaustion got the better of me for a moment.

I turned to him, but did not really look at him. "I just want to go to sleep. If you want to talk, we'll have a lot of time tomorrow."

His face didn't exactly fall, but he didn't seem to feel obligated to push me right now, so he bid me goodnight. He walked across the hallway and I closed my door before it hit me that, even though I was tired, I was too wound up to rest immediately.

I turned to the shower to untie the knots in my back and neck, and finally allowed myself onto the bed. I settled in, taking pleasure in the feeling of the mattress sinking to accommodate my body. Tomorrow, we would depart. I didn't know how to feel about invading the Elric brother's privacy like this, other than to be ashamed. I hated to feel ashamed, hated the way it felt like my stomach fell a little, and gravity seemed to press upon me. What was I doing, I pondered?

It was impossible to sleep much past daybreak, thus my day began early. I had dreamt dreams last night, which I forgot upon waking, though they hadn't been pleasant. My body was twitchy all morning until after I'd splashed my face with the coldest water available from the sink. Multiple times. No one had to prod me in the back to make me eat, though. It was a wonder that I had forgotten my hunger so easily. Then again, I thought while I stood in front of the sink later, it wasn't so hard to fathom that my body still clung to the usual routine of eating little to nothing.

After eating so well in the hospital, and then not eating any meals for a couple of days, I almost regretted filling my stomach so readily. It turned against me not long after, and I fought to keep my breakfast in my stomach and not in the sink before me. While I wrestled internally, there was a knock at the door.

"Adelaide?" Edward's muffled voice came through the door.

I grabbed a nearby hand towel, and dabbed the small amount of perspiration from my face. I opened the door; keeping the towel at my mouth for fear that I would throw up on Edward. I had dressed this morning in the only clothes I had, and since it was so nice in the hotel, I hadn't bothered with my cloak. It was abruptly brought to my attention that I had forgotten this fact when a woman passing behind Edward at that moment stiffened as she walked by. Her pace quickened. I ignored her.

"Yes?" I looked at the boy in my doorway. My patience waned, and after a full second, I turned away from him, leaving the door open. I shook my head, and searched around the room for my hair ties. Damn, I couldn't find them. "Standing there doesn't exactly help. Either talk, or leave."

He seemed to finally get over seeing the entirety of my face and what was visible of the traceries leading all over what he could see of my neck, and down to my hands. Of course, there was more, but I wasn't exactly trying to flaunt that at this moment.

"Er," he began slowly, "I was mostly wondering if you were about ready to go to the station. But I guess that you are?"

I had a tiny suspicion that he had wanted to ask me something else, but it didn't really matter. I got up from having looked underneath the bed for my hair ties, pushing back my hair. It was irritating to have in my face all of the time, though I couldn't bring myself to cut it. This was the reason for tying my hair back into dual ponytails.

"Yeah, I guess that I am." I said, picking up my cloak from the bed and cursing that I had misplaced my hair ties. Edward's face was a bit skeptic when I turned back to him. "What's wrong with you, braid-boy?" He almost snapped at me over the comment, but I could see that he held himself in check.

"If you're ready to go, the rest of us are as well."

So it was fine when I came downstairs that there were cars waiting to take us to the train station, and I didn't question the arrangement. There wasn't much talk between Edward and I on the ride; it was obvious that there was something on his mind, though I didn't bother wondering what it was. I still felt awkward, tagging along with them, but I was certain that there wasn't any way I would stay here. I chewed on this thought as we pulled up to the station.

A small difference that I felt strangely came to mind was that Edward actually had a suitcase when we left the car. It was just one of the things I hadn't thought about in some time, the idea of having real possessions. I had the clothes on my back and my mind that I could take with me. I felt a little like laughing quietly, but didn't, as we came up onto the platform.

The first thing we both saw was the column of Major Armstrong, standing next to what looked like, though couldn't possibly be but was, Alphonse Elric in a crate. Edward was immediately in disbelief and ran over to his little brother. I continued walking, though considered asking the Major what was going on. Too late, it seemed that Edward had already made it clear that this was objectionable to him. The Major declared in a strong voice that it was, "cheaper on the travel fees if he is treated as luggage."

I spared a glance at Alphonse with my eyebrows raised. I might want to visit him during the ride. It seemed an awfully mean way to be taken to Resembool, and lonely.

When we boarded the train, Edward was undoubtedly still despairing over the situation with his brother. He grumpily took his seat and the Major sat next to him, leaving the seat across from them open for me. I folded my jacket in my lap and fidgeted with my gloves, running my fingers along the underside of the leather where it came across the back of my hand. People were staring again, and it wasn't like the looks were vicious or anything, but I could feel the way that they were looking at me. It made my stomach drop unpleasantly. I was brought to attention by a tapping on the window.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes!" Edward opened the window.

"The guys from HQ were too busy to drop by, so they sent me here instead. And I've brought a message from Roy," he said, and I could hear Edward mutter something. He quoted the message as, "Post-processing is a bit of a pain, so I will not permit you to die within my jurisdiction." And, "that was all."

Edward's face may have been set in an angry look, but the feeling I got was that this was more of a way of expressing comradeship than actual hate. "Tell him I said, roger that, I will not die before you, Colonel Shit," he said, to which Hughes' burst out laughing.

"Wicked brats are aplenty in the world! You and that bastard Roy ought to have long lives." The train whistle blew shrilly at that moment, and ticket-takers could be heard calling for the last of the passengers. Hughes stepped back from the window, "Well then, be careful on your journey," he smiled. "If you pop by Central, give me a holler."

The men before me saluted each other as the train began to pull away. Edward gave a left-handed salute, owing to no longer having his automail.

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**This chapter was a little bit annoying to write, to be honest, but I think I got through it mostly unharmed. I'm not sure about you readers, though I hope for the best!  
~Kena **


	7. Ch 7 Latent

**So here's the next chapter! Enjoy!**

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Chapter Seven: __**Latent**_

_I dream, thus I create. _

_Dreams are of emotions; I hold here a world._

_It is strikingly beautiful and painful. _

_All colors are bright when made only of black and white._

For the most part, I looked out the window at the passing scenery, much the same as Edward. I could definitely say that my stare was a bit more focused on things much farther away, though. My breathing reached a pace, and my eyes were almost heavy, though I came no closer to closing them than simple blinking.

"This will be the first time that I will meet an automail mechanic," Armstrong said after a bit.

"To be more accurate," Edward began, "she's sort of a surgeon, prosthetic harnesser, and an automail tuner. She's an old friend, so she'll make it cheap and do a good job."

"What sort of place is this Resembool?" Armstrong voiced the question I had meant to ask.

"It's an amazing village. Ain't nothing there. Because of the East Area civil war, stuff just didn't happen there anymore. If the army had done a better job, there might have been more stuff going on there."

"I don't like the sound of that…" the Major said.

"Want me to go on?" he inquired, paused, and continued. "It's really a quiet place. There's nothing there, but it has a lot of stuff that cities are missing. That's our hometown."

His description of his home gave me the impression that he missed it more than he let on. Maybe he missed his family there, I thought.

"That reminds me," Edward said with a hint of accusation, "you _did_ put Al on this train, didn't you?"

The Major put a hand to his chin, "Hohoho, indeed he is here." He then commenced in explaining that Alphonse had been placed in the livestock car with sheep. It was supposedly to keep him company on the long ride.

"What the hell did you think my brother was?" Edward exclaimed, fuming.

"Why are you not happy! It's large, cheap, and lively. Does he not have everything he would want?" The Major asked quizzically.

"Stop screwing around!" Edward finally said, though their argument didn't last much past that, as we were the source of many glances and whispering again.

Time passed again, and I considered going to visit Alphonse. He must be in an awfully awkward position, alone in the car with only sheep. It was probably dark in there as well…

The train pulled up to a station, one of the many stops on the ride already. I stood, stretching. Going to Resembool by train was nice, but my butt had gone numb from sitting for so long. Often I had caught myself moving around in my seat, tapping my fingers against my upper arm when I crossed them every so often, and crossing and uncrossing my legs. By this time I sorely envied Edward, who had fallen asleep with his head on his arm, and his arm against the window; the strange movement of the train could not lull me into such comfort.

That was when the Major, who had been reading for the longest part of our journey, suddenly stood up from his seat and leaned over Edward to look disbelievingly out the window. He pushed the window open and called out to a man walking by the train.

"Dr. Marcoh!" He yelled, and I saw the man turn. "Are you not Dr. Marcoh? It is I, Alex Louis Armstrong from Central!" At this, the man's face went pale, and he bolted off.

"You know him?" Edward asked, looking up at the Major.

"Yes," he replied. "He is a very capable alchemist from an alchemic research agency of Central. He took part in research to use alchemy for medical purposes, but disappeared after the war."

This comment made Edward sit up, alert, and go from his seat. "Let's get off!" he abruptly told the Major.

"Oh? Were we not to get off at Resembool?" Armstrong asked, pulling away from the window to look after Edward.

"If that guy researched what you said he did, he might know something about biological transmutation!" Edward was almost by the door, and the Major and I were just now going to follow him. "You have to unload Al and the luggage! Hurry up," he called back to us as he disembarked from the train. "Sorry, we're getting off!" Edward told the ticket-taker on the platform.

While I was in puzzlement, I pursued my two companions, though I had considered continuing to ride the train and leaving their business to them. I had to admit that the proposition terrified me enough that, as soon as I thought it, I discarded it.

Alphonse was unloaded, and Edward immediately complained about the smell of livestock radiating from him. Alphonse protested that it wasn't his fault. I exhaled, and then felt my lips twitch in a small smile that I couldn't fight. I trailed behind the group, unhappy yet again that I was accidentally prodding into their lives. The first villager that they saw Edward rushed up to.

"Did you see someone that passed by earlier, um," he stopped, likely thinking about how to describe the man.

Major Armstrong set down Alphonse and pulled from his jacket a small notebook. He went to work and came to Edward's aid, showing an illustration, of uncanny likeness, of the man who was hopefully Dr. Marcoh, to the villager. "Did this man pass by?"

In almost mock deftness Edward remarked, "Major, you're great at drawing," with a tone of slight disbelief.

"This is the artistry that had been passed down to generation after generation of the Armstrong's!" the Major proudly beamed.

Upon inspection of the drawing, the villager and a boy who looked to be his son proclaimed, "That's Dr. Maulo! We know him!"

Armstrong questioned the different name under his breath while they began to explain that, due to the town's poor status they didn't have the resources to maintain a good doctor, but that the doctor had told them that he didn't care about that sort of thing. They had only good things to tell us of the man, retelling how, though a person could have absolutely no hope of pulling through, that when the doctor came to treat them, there was a "bright flash," and that person would be miraculously healed. The state alchemists before me both agreed promptly that it was most likely alchemy. The townspeople generously pointed and gave directions to the good doctor's house.

"So he took a fake name and hid in this village. But why did he run away?" Edward's mind was working, I could tell. I couldn't help but notice how his expression became solid and the set of his shoulders changed from when he was relaxed on the train.

"When the doctor disappeared, I heard that some important classified files also disappeared. There was a rumor that the doctor stole them…" there a gap in his speaking as we mounted the steps to the supposed Dr. Maulo's house. "He might have thought that we were agents of his agency," he proposed.

Still a few steps below, I looked up to watch Edward rap his knuckles against the door to no response. He pushed the door open, and leaned inwards. I was about to caution him against what he'd just done when he called out, "Hello?" Rather, he broke the word in half, his voice going from inquiring guest to suppressed surprise, a "Hel-lo."

I faintly heard the familiar double-click sound of a gun being cocked, and he jumped sideways back from the doorway immediately. I leapt from the wall I had leaned against just in time to hear the shot go off and rush to stop Edward from falling backwards down the stairs. Since he had flung himself to the same side as the stairs, his foot had landed a little too far back, and I had to use the back of my shoulder to stop his fall while planting my feet on my current step. As soon as he was stabilized, his hand went to his chest, and I could feel my own pulse thudding erratically.

"What did you come here for?" the doctor shouted, the smoking gun now aimed at the Major.

"Please calm down, doctor," Major Armstrong said, holding up his free hand in front of him while his other arm was holding Alphonse's crate.

The alarmed doctor continued to aim his gun shakily, shouting, "Did you come to take me back? I don't want to go back there! Please, just let me be!" The Major tried to talk the man down, but he kept going on. "I won't be fooled!"

I barely knew that the Major was becoming fed up with this when he flung the heavy crate containing Alphonse at the panicking doctor, "I said calm down!"

Armstrong wrested the gun from the man under the crate before freeing him up; Edward checked to make sure that his little brother was okay. I stood there; my heart finally returning to it's normal pace. It had been so long since I'd heard a gunshot…

Disarmed and sobered of his crazed fear, the doctor looked startled still, but much more reasonable. He studied us all, and when his eyes came to land on me, I felt his ranging eyes scrutinize even the tiniest of the visible marks on my body. My heart palpitated, and I knew then that, even if I had to be rude about it, I too would listen to what the doctor had to say to Edward, if he were to divulge anything.

Being able to come inside and hear what was to be discussed was much easier than I'd have thought. My companions were preoccupied enough, and Maulo, or Marcoh, or whatever the doctor's name was, knew that if he said something about my presence, I would push him for the information. I felt like a very, very small part of Edward's hard determination, which I had noted earlier, had found its way to me.

"I couldn't bear to do it. Even though it was an order from above, to be made to dirty my hands on it, I…" the man wouldn't continue, and instead skipped on, "And then it was used at the East Area civil war as a tool for mass murder. It was truly a horrible battle. Too many innocent bystanders died." A somber silence took hold for a moment, one of the many shared in this room today. "What I have done are things that cannot be atoned for by just taking my life. Even so, I am acting as doctor here for as long as I can." Marcoh stopped speaking again. His face had become set in lines, with a weak expression on his face. Every now and then, I had felt his eyes beginning to drift towards where I stood, though he always stopped the movement before it became obvious to the others.

"Just what did you research and what did you escape with?" the Major pressed.

Marcoh's head leaned forward tiredly to rest on his hand. He closed his eyes and kneaded them with his fingers. His brow was furrowed in defeat and his expression faltered often while he put off answering the question. The slight movement of his features came to a stop, and he looked up at the men at the table around him, his hands clasped together beneath his chin.

"I made the Philosopher's Stones. The research files and a stone are what I brought with me."

I could see Edward's disbelief marring with the urge to jump up from the table. Alphonse beside him had his head lifted to watch every motion of the doctor; his red eyes that glowed beneath the helmet appeared brighter. What this information meant to them, I could only guess.

"You have a stone?" burst the words from Edward's mouth.

Marcoh pushed himself away from the table and went to a cabinet with a wide assortment of remedies pertaining to his profession. "Yes," he reached in and revealed to us a small bottle with a cork in top. Inside the clear glass was a semi-translucent red liquid. "It's in here."

All of the alchemists before me studied the liquid scrupulously, with doubt in their eyes.

"A stone," Edward remarked, "isn't this a liquid?"

Without hesitation, Marcoh uncorked the bottle and tipped it to one side over the table. We all jumped simultaneously, the impending danger of such a valuable creation being wasted on the forefront of our minds. But as the liquid met with the tabletop, it somehow resisted the molecular responsibility of a liquid to spread unhindered.

Instead, it appeared to firm itself into a droplet shape, which loosely resembled a perfectly smooth stone; one which might have comfortably sat in the center of my palm with my fingers closed over it easily. It was not large, yet it was definitely no pebble. Still it retained the red hue we observed from when its form was that of a liquid. We all stared at the impossible drop of red liquid displaying itself as a solid.

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**I kind of dislike the way that Adelaide is invisible in this chapter. I kept saying in my head that there wasn't a huge reason why she _should_ stand out more, though. At this part of the story she's only there because she couldn't stay in the city as her father... . I'm bothered by it still. **


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